42. Juliana

FORTY-TWO

JULIANA

"Slow down, Jeremy. Your father won't be happy if he comes home and discovers there's no casserole left."

His spoon clatters against his plate. "Sorry, Mom."

I snicker. Leave it up to Jeremy to eat three portions on his own—his appetite's even worse than during high school. Although, some things have stayed the same since those years, most notably our childhood apartment.

As notorious penny pinchers, nothing goes to waste and nothing gets replaced, unless absolutely necessary. Take the oriental rug beneath our feet, for example. I don't remember a time when it wasn't in our cozy apartment. Or this dining table the three of us sit at. There's no doubt in my mind Mom and Dad will pass it down as inheritance. To their credit, it still looks brand new, as with most of the other furniture and decor.

Obviously, going from Hayden's penthouse to my childhood apartment is quite the shell shock, but there's no mistaking the homey solace I feel here, especially when digging into my favorite comfort dish, chicken and zucchini casserole. Strictly cooked by my mom, who always claims it's the simplest recipe in her repertoire.

What can I say? I'm a simple girl.

I take another bite, savoring the mozzarella's tangy richness, while simultaneously witnessing Jeremy's appetite roar back to life. Hunched over, he shovels spoonfuls past his lips like he's plowing snow. Honestly, the sight is a bit jarring for my eyes, which strangely makes me smirk, because that means it has to be downright agonizing for Mom—

My smile falters.

At the head of the table, Mom gazes off into space, her expression laden with worry.

"Mom?"

"Huh?" She snaps out of it, and the look disappears. "Oh, sorry, sweetie. I'm just tired, is all." Picking up her spoon, she smiles at me—and it couldn't seem more forced.

Guess I'm not the only one having trouble ignoring the enormous elephant in the room.

DreamScape.

Since the horrible event, it's been a week. Five days of wallowing in self-pity and ignoring Hayden, followed by two days of making love with him. And I do mean love. The word keeps slipping off my tongue, maybe more than his—before, during, after, at random times of the day, as if we're trying to see who's gonna get spooked and run first. Or... maybe it's the other reason.

Forgetting what happened.

Sure, we should devise a plan of action, but I told him I needed a breather. Call it unproductive coping but... obsessively worrying over the same problem day after day after day, it gets exhausting. I was exhausted— still am, apparently, seeing how the first words from my mouth when I strutted through my parents' door were "I don't want to talk about it."

So, the elephant remains...

I did, however, blab to my mom about Hayden. I mean, she's not dumb. She could easily put two-and-two together, once we finally do talk about what happened and I inform her Kingston Entertainment was meant to— just —sponsor my game. So, even with Jeremy here with a sore wound over the truth of me and his best friend, I came clean to her the instant we sat down at the table, prepared to weather her onslaught of questions.

But they never came. Turns out, she suspected us all along, even hit me with the whole "oh, honey, I've seen how you've looked at him your whole life." Which made Jeremy turn green in the face and me doubt the validity of such a statement. That is, until I remembered that look she gave me at Vinny's Corner. She knew. Moms always do, don't they?

I appraise her again, frowning. "Mom, you haven't touched your food. Are you sure you're—"

Her head bobs up suddenly, swaying her locks, the auburn hue more pronounced than the hint in Jeremy's and my own hair. "Warren is behind what happened, right?"

Oh, no. I really thought I could delay this conversation. "Umm—"

"I mean, it was his company that stole your game, so of course it was him." When I remain silent, she pushes, "Am I right?"

"Yes."

Despite her assumption, she sinks back into her chair, shadows darkening along her pretty face. "If I'd known you were competing for his company's feature, I could've warned you. Warren Kingston corrupts everything he touches."

I squirm in my chair at the sound of his name on her tongue. It sounds wrong, like metal scraping metal, maybe because she hasn't spoken his name in years. Over a decade, since that night we sped off into the night, after she pepper sprayed him over a camcorder. I remember the events of that night clearly.

Sure, at such a young age, I couldn't grasp what I'd seen, but as I got older, I slowly realized I watched my own mother have sex with one of New York City's wealthiest men—a memory I actively shove to the furthest depths of my mind. Including the fact that she was his nighttime nanny and his mistress for several years. She wasn't seeing anyone romantically at the time, that I know of, but Warren was married.

The whole thing's never made sense to me. According to my mom, she's only ever had two boyfriends in her life, both of whom she married. Monogamy is obviously important to her, so... why?

Throughout our adolescence, that was the original elephant in this apartment, until it grew too old and died. I have no doubt she told Dad—she tells him everything—but Jeremy and me? We never spoke of it, hardly to each other, even. I never dared to ask that burning question, not once, growing up.

And I won't now.

"He's awful," I agree simply, leaving her the option to drop the subject.

"No, Juliana..." She pauses, earning the attention of both her children, as she gnaws on her lips in a way that tells me I should brace myself. "Warren's so much worse than just a serial womanizer."

For a split second, I catch Jeremy's stare. Suddenly, guilt sparks within me. Whatever she's about to say, it's for my sake. "Mom, you don't have to—"

"Yes." She lurches forward, only to settle back down, lowering her voice. "Yes, I do. I hoped I'd never have to dredge up the past, but... it's time you two know the truth."

Jeremy goes rigid, as do I.

The discomfort written all over her face is palpable as she heaves a sigh. "I just want you two to know, I only kept this from you, because I never wanted to make you feel guilty. That whatever I did, it was my choice. Not yours."

From my peripheral, Jeremy's Adam's apple bobbles, and when Mom starts thrumming her knuckles atop the table, I get a queasy feeling in my belly. The anticipation, it's too much. Way, way too much, so I blurt, "Is this about the camcorder? I-I mean..." I rake a hand across the back of my neck, regretting my impulsiveness. "Seems like the obvious guess to me. It's the last time we saw him."

"It is." She lowers her gaze. "I knew you'd understand what you saw when you grew up. But that's about it. I entertained an affair with a married man. Nothing more, nothing less. But..."

At her silence, Jeremy leans over the table, burying his face into his palms, his voice muffling against his fingers as he watches through their slits. "Just tell us, Mom. It's okay."

"Let's just say, that video... it proved how..." She clears her throat, nodding to herself. "Nonconsensual it was."

Jeremy's bolts from his chair, sending it skipping from the table harshly.

"No—no." She holds out her hands. Calm down, they tell the six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-fifty-pound gym rat, whose face is redder than blood. "He didn't force himself on me, but... he did..." As she swallows, something in her eyes disassociates from her next words. "He blackmailed me."

My hands shoot to my lips, mirroring Jeremy's reaction. He faces away, though, toward the kitchen, stuck standing like a statue, leaving all the questions up to me.

"How?" is the only one I can muster.

She looks elsewhere, too—as it all comes spilling out.

"Warren started taking notice of me early in my teaching career, not too long after Daniel's passing. He'd send flower deliveries to my classroom, sometimes bring a bouquet himself during my lunch break. It was flattering at first, but I wasn't into older men, specifically ones with a wife. He took the rejection quite well, it seemed. Then, a year later, after Hayden's first day in my class, he offered me a nighttime nanny position. It felt a little strange, given how I knew he pursued other women while being married, but..."

On her pause, Jeremy creeps back to his chair, not bothering to pull it back up to the table, as he listens, folding his hands in his lap. When I look, his knuckles are white, trembling with composure.

"I needed the money. Sure, I didn't have to pay my children's private school tuition, but making ends meet was hard enough on a single income. Plus, I could watch you two at the same time, so I took the job. Not long after that, he started pursuing me again. Subtly groping me—in ways he brushed off as accidental. Flirtatious remarks. Invasive questions. Gifts. It kept getting worse, despite refusing his advancements, to the point where the money wasn't worth it anymore. When I told him to find a new nanny—that's when we had a serious problem."

Every hair on my arms raises. This can't be good...

"He told me I'd remain his nighttime nanny, for however longed it pleased him. That I was to stop resisting him, or else..."

Finally, she drags her eyes back to center, flicking them between us with a harrowing look she tries so desperately to mask. But it's ghastly, haunted by shadows, as if the memory itself yanks her back to the past by her ankles, nails scratching and splintering along the floorboards.

I give her a subtle nod. It's okay.

"Or else he'd get you two kicked out of school."

Bile rises in my throat. IT'S NOT OKAY, IT'S NOT OKAY, IT'S—

Jeremy springs to his feet, nearly tripping over his chair, sprinting toward the kitchen, before hurling into the sink violently. As he dispenses the rest of his dinner, wave after wave, I only stare into Mom's eyes, fighting the tears in mine.

If what she's saying is true— which it is. I saw it with my own two eyes—that means Warren blackmailed our mother into having sex with him, or else her children couldn't attend private school. She could never afford the tuition without the scholarships, and Warren was on the school board. Riverside Prep's richest parent and most generous donator, the whole school knew.

He'd have our lockers cleaned out the very next day.

A groan signifies the end of Jeremy's sickness, before he comes clomping back to his seat. It's hard to look at him. I've never seen him so distraught, and I'm sure he'd say the same about me. As for our mother—the real victim of this story—by the way she angles her chin high, letting the truth ring clear, it tells me she doesn't think Warren deserves my tears.

So, I don't let them fall.

"Mom..." I kill the wobble in my voice—or try to. "That's..." Fuck. What does someone say to that? Now I understand why she was concerned about our guilt. Their affair lasted for two whole years. How did she withstand that? Another wave of bile hits me when I know the answer.

For her children's futures.

"I'm so sorry," I say, feeling useless.

"Don't be. Now, you listen here—both of you." She pushes Jeremy's shoulder, earning his attention. "I made my choice. I did what I did, and there's no reason either of you should feel any shame. He's the monster and to blame for all that happened."

"I know, but... it feels like he won."

"Did he?" Mom smirks. There's that defiance. "I made a point of moving on with my life, while he stayed the same man he's always been. And the best part, his sons went to Riverside, so he had to watch as I left him in the past."

That manages a smile from me, but damn, it's a crooked one.

Jeremy wakes from his daze, huffing a loud sound laced with anger. "I don't understand. Why would Warren pull the stunt that he did with Juliana, if he knows you have that incriminating tape?"

Mom scoffs, answering immediately. "I'll tell you why. It's simple, really. Warren's not all that hard to figure out, once you're under his talons. He underestimates women intellectually, and views them as inferior—probably stems from the relationship he saw from his parents. I'm sure he thinks I lost the evidence after all these years, or maybe I'm so dumb I threw it out. On top of that, Juliana, if he knew you were working with Hayden, he'd count on you blaming him for everything. Meaning, when you eventually turned to me for help, I wouldn't consider using the tape. It's dirt on Warren, not Hayden, after all."

I blink.

Then blink some more.

Swiveling my gaze onto Jeremy, I find him doing the same. What the hell's going on? Did I miss the story of when she obtained her psychology degree? Did our mother— who teaches second graders— walk straight from an episode of Criminal Minds?

If she didn't just roast Warren enough, Mom torches another blow, charring him around the edges. "It all links back to his arrogance, which makes him sloppy—and stupid."

Holy shit.

"U-uhm," I stammer, catching Mom's expression light up with delight. "So, uhh... what do you think is our best course of action?" Miss Detective.

"We march him straight to court."

My stomach drops.

Oh, no. I was worried she'd say that.

Noting my skepticism, she continues, "We might pull it off with this kind of evidence. Hire a lawyer and—"

"Oh—oh!" Jeremy smacks the table. "I know just the one!"

I arch a brow. "You do?"

"Yeah. At the Vegas conference, I met this guy—kind of an intimidating fellow, if you ask me, but I digress. Guess he works with security systems, has some side projects he wouldn't answer literally any questions about. Just vague answers. Probably works as some military contractor, I bet, his tongue tied by some insanely high security clearances..."

My eyes bulge. Get to the point!

"Sorry, sorry! Anyway. He's from New York and told me his wife's a lawyer on Silicon Avenue. Her name is Lauren Astor."

I stew on it... "Nope. Doesn't ring any bells."

"Worth a shot. I've heard the name once or twice. Pretty sure she's a data privacy lawyer."

"Hmph. Well, she sounds exactly like what we need, but how are we gonna afford that?"

His lips flatten, so thin I can't help but laugh. "Your new boyfriend is a billionaire. I think you can manage."

"Technically, he's not my—"Oh, please, who am I trying to convince? "Warren controls Hayden's entire trust. You really think he'd allow that money to go toward his opposition?"

"Shit, I didn't think of that..." He scratches his head. "Well, I'll still reach out. Maybe we can work something out, I don't know..."

My heart sinks, running low on faith. And my mind... it's running low on options.

Reaching across the table, Mom's hand finds mine, and I worry I feel too little of its warmth. "We'll come up with something."